


A Heart Split in Three

by MoHowl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Bisexuality, Denial, Emotional, Finding Love, Gay Love, Gay Sex, Guilt, Homosexuality, Humans, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, LGBT, Love, M/M, Multi, Relationship(s), Religious Parents, Three-way Relationship, Threesome - M/M/M, Understanding, bxb - Freeform, three-way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoHowl/pseuds/MoHowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Braxon Pierce, Gamzee Makara, and Karkat Vantas were best friends when they were children until Braxon had to move away. His religious parents tried to force him to turn "normal," which resulted in Braxon moving in with Gamzee, who makes Braxon's suppressed feelings come forth. Karkat returns after not talking to either of his friends for a few years. Gamzee and Braxon open their arms and relationship to their younger friend. </p>
<p>But problems arise from their relationship. Some more dangerous than others.</p>
<p>-It's a short summary because I don't want to give too much away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood Pact

**Author's Note:**

> Ages: Braxon - 9; Gamzee - 10; Karkat - 6
> 
> This may be a slow update story due to life outside the computer. In case any of you haven't read my other stories, I don't normally apologize for pauses between updates. I write these stories for fun and do not like being rushed to write. It's a personal thing . . . Another thing to mention is that I kind of base my OC's mannerisms and actions on my own in real life. It's hard for me to create someone who does not have a piece of me in them.
> 
> I do appreciate comments on my work. They inspire me to write more, and I do like an opinion. :]

"Come on, Karkitty!"

"Shut up! Stop calling me that!"

"Just all up and come on."

Gamzee and I stared across the very shallow creek. Our younger friend Karkat was still on the second of the six stepping stones. His legs were shorter than ours. Gamzee leaned against a tree and crossed his skinny arms over his chest. I stood at the edge of the bank. 

"Come on, Karkat. It's easy!" 

My little black-haired friend glared at me with his unusual reddish-brown eyes. He could have easily taken the bridge over the creek, but he had wanted to be just like Gamzee and me. He huffed angrily but hopped onto the next stone. I reached down when he got to the last stone and helped him climb up the sloped bank. He was the youngest of our trio at the age of six; Gamzee was the eldest at ten, and I was nine. Gamzee and I never really used Karkat's age as an excuse to leave him out of our adventures. We had been living next to each other for a little over a year and became friends almost instantly.

"About time, Karbro," Gamzee said with a light laugh. He had a weird way of calling the two of us by the first part of our names then adding 'bro' at the end. I thought it was cool to have a nickname like Braxbro, though Karkat did not seem to enjoy being called 'Karbro.' "It's not far now." Gamzee lead the way through a small patch of trees to a clearing with a picnic table. He scrambled onto the table with Karkat and me following close behind. Karkat scooted away from the edge to sit in the center of the table. Maybe he was scared he would fall off and get hurt.

I sat between my best friends. The sun had warmed the dark colored wood of the table, and the heat filled my body. I sighed quietly. A bee flew past us on its search for honey. Birds called to each other in the trees. From our spot on the table we come clearly see Kurloz and Kankri, Gamzee's and Karkat's older brothers; I did not have brothers or sisters of my own. They were sitting at another table talking about something teenagers liked. Every now and then they would look our way to make sure we weren't in trouble. 

"Is something wrong, Braxon?" Karkat moved closer and rested his head on my shoulder. It was a comforting gesture. "Spit it out."

I could feel Gamzee's dark purple eyes watching me. "I . . . I have to tell you something." I cleared my throat to stall. I did not want to tell my best friends the news. "I'm . . . I'm moving."

"What?!" Karkat bolted off my shoulder to stare at me.

"Are you serious?" Gamzee's eyes were unusually wide. "Why?"

"My dad's job. They need him to move to be closer." I felt my eyes start to burn a bit. "I didn't want to tell you."

Gamzee frowned deeply. "But if he moves to be closer to his job, then you'll be away from us." 

"We won't be best friends anymore," Karkat fretted with a sniffle. 

We sat in a sad silence for a little while. It was broken by a little flicking sound. Karkat and I looked to our older friend, the source of the odd sound. In his hand he held a little purple pocket knife. I knew his brother had given him the knife as a birthday present but had never actually seen it. 

"We can still be best friends," he said with a goofy smile. "Let's make a blood pact."

My eyes widened as he gave the knife a small wave through the air. "You mean . . . cut our fingers and touch blood?"

"Isn't that dangerous?" asked Karkat, edging even closer to me. 

"Not if you're not sick," Gamzee replied simply. His jaw clenched angrily as he poked the tip of his finger. When the knife was moved away, a small bubble of blood appeared on his skin. "Kurloz told me about blood pacts. He says that if you share blood with someone special then you will be friends for ever." He passed me the knife. 

I stared at the blade for a few moments then looked up at Gamzee's hopeful face. With a deep inhale, I stabbed the tip of my finger. I felt a jab of pain go up my arm then saw the blood starting to well up around the tip of the blade. I hastily took it away from my skin. Blood started to run down my finger. I gave the knife to Karkat. "Friends are worth the pain," I whispered.

A sharp gasp on my left told me Karkat had poked himself. "I hope so," he grumbled, giving the knife back to Gamzee. "What do we do now?"

Gamzee scooted around until he was facing us. He held up his hand, pointer finger up as if to display the drop of blood. "We press our fingers together."

I moved slowly and pressed the tip of my finger against his, leaving a bit of space for Karkat's chubby finger. He joined after a few seconds. I watched as our blood mixed. 

"And now we're friends for ever," Gamzee said with a wide smile.

My own lips curved into a smile. Gamzee and Karkat will always be my best friends. Even if I do have to move, I knew we would be together for ever. I lowered my finger and wiped the blood on my shorts. The little dot was already starting to heal.

"Karkat! Gamzee! Braxon! Come on, boys!"

Our head whipped toward where Kankri and Kurloz were standing by a car I recognized. My parents must have come to pick me up. That must mean they are done packing everything into the moving trucks. That also means I had to say good-bye to my best friends. With heavy hearts and even heavier feet, the three of us returned to the teenagers. I could feel my eyes starting to burn again, and this time the tears started to fall down my cheeks.

My parents were sitting in the car, irritated looks on their faces. I knew they did not approve of Kurloz and Kankri watching me, most likely because of Kurloz wearing cool face makeup and Kankri's habit of correcting people. I thought they were nice, though, and wished almost every night that I had my own older brother. I knew that was not possible, but it didn't stop me from wishing.

When we reached the teenagers, Kankri gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and Kurloz ruffled my hair. They looked sad as Gamzee and Karkat hugged me tightly. Karkat buried his face in my neck; his tears trickled down my shirt. Gamzee rested his head against mine. I could not feel his tears. They may have been captured in my hair.

"Please do not forget us, Braxbro," Gamzee said as he released me. His dark purple eyes were swimming in his unfallen tears.

"I could never forget you guys," I said. "You're my best friends."

Karkat backed away gently. "Stay out of trouble, for all of us. I do not want to see you on the news."

I offered a weak chuckle, which turned into a squeak when my father honked the horn. Gamzee half-heartedly honked back at them. I moved away from my friends, walking backwards so I did not have to look away. "Bye, guys. I'll be back before you know it!" I gave a grin that I hope would hide my pain. Another honk caught my attention and I got into the car before my father could get out and force me inside.

"About time," my mother snipped as soon as I shut the door. "I'm ready to get out of here."

I put on my seatbelt as my father pulled away from the curb. I glanced back at my friends. Gamzee was staring after the car, tears falling from his purple eyes. Karkat was sobbing into his brother's stomach. I did not mean to hurt them. I did not mean for my father to move away for his job.

"How did you get blood on your new pants?!" my mother demanded. 

My head sluggishly turned away from the window so I could look at her. Dark brown eyes were staring at my shorts. I glanced down and saw she was looking at where I had wiped off the blood. A small brownish-red streak was stained into the blue material. "I don't know. I may have fell."

"You fell in that creek, didn't you? I told you to not follow that Makara brat into the woods!" My mother frown deeply then turned to the front. "I'm so glad we are moving away from them. The Makaras are a lot of crazies, and the Vantases are just as bad. Those men let their eldest children run around doing whatever they want; that . . . Kurloz walks around in that clown paint! What a disgrace to the neighborhood! It's best that we left!" She tossed her long light brown hair like a show horse or something. "I don't want that kind of riffraff rubbing off on our son!"

My father grunted in response. He was probably thinking about the new promotion he got a work, the reason we were moving. I savagely wished he would get fired so we had to move back. Then I could be with my best friends. 

I looked at my finger. The cut was only just visible. It hurt a little bit, but the pain was worth it. It reminded me that I would be best friends with Gamzee and Karkat for the rest of my life.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ages: Braxon - 25; Gamzee - 26
> 
> This one is probably going to be my slower-to-update story.

"Seven o'one . . . Seven o'one . . . Fuck! That's three fifty-six." I glared at the piece of paper in my hand as my car idled at the intersection. "I can't remember jack shit."

A week ago I been scouring the internet for an apartment or even a room to rent so I could be closer to my job. Luck was on my side as I had found an ad for a roommate within a hour of searching for something within my price range. It was placed by someone who seemed a bit desperate because they needed a roommate as soon as possible. Maybe they needed help with utilities or something? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that it was in my hometown. I thought it would be a great opportunity. Unfortunately after being away for sixteen year, I could not remember where everything was in Akohak. And the address was on the opposite side of town, where I had no business in venturing around.

With a grumble, I pulled my cell phone out my pocket. The number was underlined on the paper, and I typed it in quickly. I pulled away from the stop sign as the phone was picked up.

"Hello?"

The voice sounded familiar, but I shook it off. "Hi . . . um. I saw that you had an ad for a roommate online?"

"Oh, yes! The room is still open if you're willing to take it."

"Yes. I really need to find a place closer to my work."

"Alright. Are you already in town?"

I nodded for some reason. "Yeah. I am on Maple Street."

"I can meet you at the house if you like. I can give you a tour to see if it's to your liking."

"That would be great."

"Okay! I'll see you there."

"Thank you." I hung up and stashed my phone in the cup holder not occupied by a bottle of water. That person's voice sounded so damn familiar, but I could not remember where I had heard it before. I pushed it to the back of mind so I could focus on driving. I turned a corner a bit too sharply and one of the boxes in the back fell over. I kind of hoped whoever I was moving in with had an extra bed. All I had were boxes of clothes and personal belongings. Everything else had been burned long ago. The last person I had lived with was my cousin, but I had to move because her stupid boyfriend kept thinking we were going to sleep together or something.

"You must be kissing cousins, or else you would have stayed somewhere else," he had said with a look of disgust, but mine was greater. 

"Did you honestly just stereotype small towns?" I had spat at him.

I still don't know what the hell she saw in him. He was a fuckin' creep. Always snooping through my stuff, claiming he could because I was in his house, and sneaking around whenever my cousin and I were talking, as if he would catch us talking about something perverted.

"Six ninety-eight . . . Seven hundred . . . Seven o'one! Finally!"

The house was a one-story situated at the end of the street. It was painted an off-white color. Dark purple curtains were drawn across the large window facing the street. The lawn could due with a trimming, as could the lilac bush in the right corner. A few mushroom lawn ornaments decorated a tree stump next to the small porch. The attached double-car garage was closed, but a shiny red car was parked in the driveway. A figure was leaning against it, glancing around eery few seconds. 

I pulled up to the curb near the purple mailbox and shut off the car. Something about the person screamed familiarity in my mind. I got out quickly. The shutting of my door drew the person's attention toward me. He was dressed in black slacks, black shoes, and a red long-sleeved shirt. His black hair was neatly combed, and a bright smile was on his face. 

"Welcome back, Braxon."

"Kankri?"

I approached him cautiously. I did not know if this really was Kankri or someone who was trying to impersonate him. I reached out a hand and poked him on the nose. If this was Kankri then he would lecture me -

"Braxon Pierce! You should not touch people, especially at random time. It could trigger some kind of defensive action that could result in injury toward the offender. No one should every touch someone without their permission -" He broke off with a small squeak as I hugged him gently.

"That's the Kankri I remember," I said as I released him. 

A smile broke out across his face. "How have you been, Braxon?"

"Oh, you know, trying to live life. My boss was going to let me go if I didn't find some place to live that was closer to my work. I guess he did not want to rely on an employee who lived more than thirty minutes away." I glanced at the house. "So this was the best thing."

"Well, it's still open," Kankri said, withdrawing a set of keys from his pocket. "I'm not your roommate, though."

I cocked my head at him. "You're not?"

Kankri shook his head. "No. Your roommate is someone else. His brother can't talk so it was my number on the ad."

"His brother?"

"Yes." Kankri looked at me with his usual seriousness. "The man who lives here . . . his brother does not live around here and needed someone to help keep an eye on him."

I nodded though I did not fully understand. Was I to be this man's live-in babysitter or what? I didn't want to voice my quesiton to Kankri. Instead I asked, "How have you been, Kankri? I haven't heard from you in forever."

The Vantas smiled brightly. "I got a teaching position at a high school two towns away. It's a nice job and the students are wonderful." He sighed happily. "It's the best job I've had so far."

"I'm glad you're doing well," I said sincerily as I followed him to up the drive to the three steps leading to the front door. For the first time I noticed purple chalk markings on the door. Some were squiggles and others were the word 'honk.' "Um . . . Who is it I'm going to be living - " I couldn't finish my sentence. The front door burst open and something tall and covered in purple tackled me against the railing. Two lanky arms surrounded my torso, pulling me into a tight hug. My nose was assaulted by the scent of weed. A nose was buried in my hair. My heart thrummed dangerously against my ribs.

"Oh fuck! My best motherfuckin' friend has all up and come back!" The person's voice was deep. "I knew you'd be back." Whoever the person was gave me one more squeeze before moving away, but keeping his hands on my hips. I stared up and up into a face that I almost did not recognize. Pale and dark grey clown facepaint covered his face. Dark purple hair was shoulder-length and wild and curly. 

Then I saw them. 

The face and the hair may have changed, but those eyes . . . No one else had those eyes. 

Indigo eyes.

My heart starting beating heavily again, but thise time out of excitement, not fear. I lunged for the tall person and buried my face in his neck. "Fuck, Gamzee! I've missed you!" He pulled me even closer in a tight embrace. "My best friend . . ."

"Welcome back, motherfucker." His choice of sentence was different, but it seemed to suit him. "What are you all up and doin' here?" He nuzzled my hair gently before allowing me to pull away.

"I'm answering an ad for someone needing a roommate," I said with a smile. "So I guess I'm your new roommate."

"Quite appropriate," Kankri said as he joined us on the small porch. "Every other person turned down the offer."

I glanced up at Gamzee's saddened face. "Then I guess they don't know what they're missing." That brought a grin to my best friend's face. 

"Does that mean you're willing to stay with Gamzee?" The pleading look in Kankri's eyes wrenched at my heart. 

"Of course I will. Why the hell would I not move in with my best friend?"

"You shouldn't curse, Braxon, as it could trigger someone." Kankri crossed his arms over his chest. "I had to give up on Gamzee. As soon as he turned sixteen he started cursing like a sailor."

Gamzee and I exchanged a smirk. I had known Gamzee would turn into a cussing machine when he was older, considering how Kurloz used to curse every chance he got. Then something flickered through my mind; Kankri had said my roommate's - Gamzee's - brother could not speak. Did something happen? I voiced my question to the older Vantas.

"He . . . bit off his own tongue. He wouldn't tell us why. I came over to help him with some homework and caught him with his tongue in the blender. I was with him when he poured it down the drain." Kankri shivered. "It was rather difficult to watch, and even more difficult to explain what had happened to the doctors."

"He learned how to sign very fast though," said Gamzee.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

Gamzee nodded, a lazy smile on his painted face. "Oh yeah. He'll all up and curse like a motherfucker with those hands of his." He started making gestures with his hands. "It's funny."

"I guess there was some good in a bad thing?" I offered. 

Gamzee just smiled though Kankri winced a bit. "Let's get your things out of the car."

I nodded. "Sounds good." Gamzee stayed very close to my side as I led them to my car. It was a little blue thing, the backseat full of crap. Gamzee's hand brushed against mine as I pulled my keys from my pocket. "You got a spare bed, Gam?"

"Oh yeah." He opened the back door and grabbed a box. "Don't have one packed back here, do you?"

"Nope. 'Fraid I don't." I stacked a couple of boxes so we didn't have to make many trips. Not like there would be many in the first place. "That thing was destroyed a while ago." For a brief moment the flames flashed before my eyes. I shook the image away. I shuffled out of the way so Kankri could grab a few smaller boxes, most likely filled with little possessions like books.

Once our arms were filled, I followed Kankri and Gamzee back up the porch and through the decorated front door.

The scent of weed flooded my nose as soon as I stepped inside. I coughed a few times, nose burning. The carpet needed to be vacuumed, and there were piles of random junk and magazines were all over the floor. The couch and matching chair were a little stained. Horror movies were scattered before the small entertainment center. The television and DVD player needed a good dusting. The sunlight that filtered through the curtains gave everything a purple shading. As we passed the kitchen to get to the hallway I was assaulted by another scent: spoiled and old food. Pizza boxes and faygo bottles were all over counters and table.

"At least some things haven't changed," I murmured to myself. 

"Here's your room, Braxbro." Gamzee kicked open a door opposite one covered in clown pictures and movie posters. Another door was between them, which I guessed led to the bathroom.

My room was practically spotless, except for some dust on every piece of furniture. The carpet was a pale blue, the walls white and the curtains a dark blue. A small dresser was against the wall next to the closet door. The three of us set down the boxes beside the bed. It was almost like Gamzee knew I was coming: all of blankets and pillows were in shades of grey. Even as a kid grey was my favorite color. 

It took two more trips to bring everything into my new room. Not long afterwards Kankri gave me my own key to the house then left Gamzee and me to ourselves. I was a little saddened to see the older Vantas leave; it had been a long time since I had seen him. But I was also glad I got to spend time with my childhood best friend. 

"Thanks, Gamzee, for letting me stay."

"It's not a motherfuckin' problem, best friend." Gamzee looked up from the box he was unpacking. He reached over and poked my nose. "Honk!"

I grinned at my best friend. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

Gamzee shook his head. "Hell no."

"So . . . What's up with the face paint?" I watched his goofy grin fall a bit. "Oh shit, man. I'm sorry for asking." Did I offend him? "You don't have to tell me."

"No. It's okay." My best friend set the books he was looking through on the bed. This time there was no puff of dust as we had taken the blankets off and shook them out before we started unpacking. "Um . . . I'll up and order some take-out. We can talk when we eat."

I nodded, unsure about his sudden drop in mood. "That sounds good to me. Beef fried rice please."


	3. "It's Medicinal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has not been abandoned, unless I say so. Comments and kudos are appreciated. Tell me what you think about this story. :]

The smell of my beef fried rice and Gamzee's General Tso chicken almost, almost smothered the scent of old pizza boxes and weed. It had been months since I last had take-out and I savored the taste.

"You asked about the face paint." Gamzee slurped up a bunch of noodles he had dunked in the chicken sauce. "This here motherfucker got hurt a few years after you up and moved." He reached up with his forefinger and wiped a streak of paint from his face. Something deep and hard-edged appeared where the makeup had been removed. It was a scar. "I have three of them," he said. "I got into some trouble. I got in a fight with some motherfucker from who-knows-where. He all up and came after me with a motherfuckin' busted bottle." He took another bite of his chicken. "He was spouting off bullshit about me chasing his girlfriend or some shit."

I frowned at my friend. "You didn't though, did you?"

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p.' "I get tired of motherfuckers staring at my scars so I put on makeup. Now I can laugh at myself in the fuckin' mirror instead of cussing." He set his boxed dinner down to grab the bottle of purple faygo on the coffee table. "Dyed my hair in tenth grade. It's been purple ever since."

"It suits you," I said honestly. "Really matches your eyes." I ruffled his hair playfully. "You fucker."

A chuckle rumbled up Gamzee's throat. "So what have you been up to, Braxbro?"

I shrugged. "Not much. My parents were really fuckin' overbearing. I got out as soon as I could; I left when I was sixteen. Been staying at my cousin's for a while." I gripped my chopsticks tighter as I thought of my cousin's boyfriend. "That didn't last long."

"Where'd you sleep then?"

"It may not seem like it, but my car can be pretty damn comfortable."

"You were sleeping in your car?"

"Until I went to the library to search for an apartment. I saw the ad and made it my number one priority." I scraped my chopsticks around the bottom of the box for scraps. I gave up after a few moments and set it down. "Thank my lucky stars you were the one the ad was talking about."

Gamzee laughed more openly this time. "You have no fuckin' idea. Kurloz, that motherfucker, believes I can't take care of myself."

I glanced around the dirty living room. "I wonder why," I muttered out loud. 

"Yeah. I could do some cleaning." Gamzee slammed back the rest of his sweet drink. "That is some motherfuckin' amazing elixir. Anyways," he continued, putting the empty bottle on the floor. "I got to up and get my blaze on." He dug under the couch and withdrew a small bong after a few moments of searching. I frowned as he set it on the table then reached under the couch again and pulled out a bag of green stuff. The scent that drifted off it told me enough.

"When the hell did you start smoking pot?" I asked. Gamzee didn't answer right away. He was busy packing some weed into the bowl. I did have to admit to myself that the little bong screamed Gamzee: it was clear glass with purple swirls and the work 'honk' etched into the side. Purple always was his favorite color. "Hmm?"

"It's not recreational," he explained, withdrawing a lighter - an indigo one, of course - from his jeans pocket. "Kurloz took me to see a motherfuckin' doctor a while ago. I was up and having these weird ass attacks where'd I'd get violent and shit. I needed something to calm my clown ass down." He brought the top of the bong to his mouth and sparked the patch of green. He breathed in, smoke traveling swifty through the neck, and held it for a few moments before exhaling a white-grey cloud. I wrinkled my nose at the smell. "The doctors . . . those sweet fuckers . . . gave me this. It's purely medicanal . . . medicinar."

"It's medicinal," I corrected him, scooting a little bit away. "That's good, I guess. I kinda wish it didn't smell so weird."

Gamzee gave me a droopy-eyed worried look. "I can take it to my room."

I shook my head. "No, Gamzee. This is your house, man. You do what you need to do."

His eyebrows arched lazily, but he didn't say anything else. After toking for a good five minutes, he set the bong on the table. His body fell to the side. His head landed in my lap, face toward the ceiling. I rolled my eyes but found myself stroking his unruly bangs out of his face, trying to help it escape the greasepaint. Gamzee looked up at me with a lazy smile on his face.

"I'm so motherfuckin' glad to have you back."

"So am I."

Gamzee shifted a bit, digging his hand into his back pocket. After a few moments of fumbling he had a wallet decorated with an evil clown in his hand. He flipped it open, took out a small card and held it to my face, bumping my nose with the paper. I untangled my fingers from his wild mane and took the card. My eyes swiftly scanned it. "It's proven, motherfucker."

"I see that, motherfucker," I mimicked, handing the paper back. The weed really was for medicinal use. I felt bad for thinking Gamzee was just a pothead. I had assumed something about my best friend . . . I really shouldn't have done that. "How bad are your attacks?" I asked. 

"Kurloz says I will put holes in walls and try to kill anyone in my way." Gamzee sighed, sinking deeper into my lap. "It can get bad."

I went back to stroking his hair. "I think I can handle you if that happens."

The dried paint at the corners of his mouth cracked as he smiled. "That's why you're my best friend."

"What about your other best friend?"

Gamzee's face scrunched with confusion. I resisted the urge to poke him in the nose. His eyes focused on the ceiling, though I knew it was something to do with the past. "Oh . . . Karbro . . . I haven't heard from that little motherfucker for so so so so long."

I frowned down at my friend. "What do you mean? Has he not been by to see you?"

"Nah. He met some chick when he was ninete - twenty. She became his whole motherfuckin' world. He all up and forgot about me." I saw tears starting to form in his eyes. "I don't know what the fuck I did. He just fuckin' up and left me. First you, then him." He raised a hand to his forehead. "I don't know what the fuck I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Gamz." I took his hand in mine. "I remember the pain we endured when we were kids." I gently straightened his pointer finger. "I remember when we made that pact." I brought his finger to my lips and kissed it gently. "I wouldn't have moved if my parents had not have made me. I would have stayed here with you guys." I carefully made his hand cup my face. Usually I was not so affection towards people, especially towards people the same sex as myself. But Gamzee's mood had dropped so suddenly that I made him an exception. He would probably always be an exception. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with Karkat for dissing you like that, but I'm not going ot leave you again, Gamzee."

That brought a smile back to his painted face. "That is why you're my motherfuckin' best friend, Braxbro." His fingers flexed against my cheek, thumb rubbing gently. 

We sat in comfortable silence for at least a half hour. It felt great to be chilling with my best friend after all these years. I was grateful he had not forgotten about me. There was no way I could have forgotten him. He may have changed by growing taller, dying his hair, getting scarred and smoking pot, but he was still the same goofy, happy-go-lucky fucker known as Gamzee Makara. 

"Mm . . ." Gamzee shifted until he was facing my lower stomach. "What time is it?"

I glanced around the living room until I spotted a clock on the wall. "About fifteen after three."

"Fuck . . ." The clown sat up slowly with a groan. "I got to work a couple fuckin' hours tonight." He stowed the weed and bong back under the couch. "Boss'll have my ass if I'm late."

"Where do you work?"

"That music store at the mall." Gamzee rose to his feet and stretched. I winced at the pops I heard coming from his back. "You remember where it is?"

I nodded. "I should hope so. The bookstore I work at is right across the parking lot." I tilted my head a bit. "Strange how I never see you go in or out though. Hell, I didn't even know you worked there."

"Our motherfuckin' hours may not match," Gamzee offered, smiling down at me. "But now we know." He ruffled my hair as he passed me on his way to his room. "Are you gonna be all bored without me?" he called.

"Most likely." I heard him shuffling through something. "I'll probably clean up or something. Fucker don't know how to clean his house!" Gamzee's laughter floated down the hall. He returned a few moments later with a clean jet black workshirt on. His name was embroidered on the right side of his chest in purple. "I'm guessing trash bags are in the kitchen?"

"In the drawer by the fridge. That's where I put all that stuff an' junk like that." He glanced at the clock and sighed quietly. "I hate that I all up and gotta fuckin' leave you, bro. You just got back, and I've missed you."

I got to my feet and approached the clown. He had not removed his facepaint so I guess his boss didn't care if he went to work like that. "Hey." I slid an arm around his lower back and hugged myself to his side. "I'm gonna be here until you get sick of me and throw my ass out, so there's no worries."

"Hakuna Matata, motherfucker." My huff of amusement made his smile widen. "All right, man. I should be back 'round ten or so." He stepped away from my embrace and grabbed his keys which were set in a small dish on the island. With a last smile he went through the door to the garage. A couple moments later I heard the door lift then his car leave. 

Now that Gamzee was gone, it was very quiet. I glanced around and noticed a stereo sitting amongst the trash in the living room. I had not noticed it earlier because it was hidden under a bunch of crumbled newspapers. I stacked the papers quickly, revealing a black boombox. Upon further inspection I discovered a large collection of ICP cds. I shook my head in amused disbelief. A cd was already in the player so I turned it on and hit play. 

With dark and funny lyrics bouncing off the walls, I set to work cleaning up the apartment. I found the trash bags where Gamzee said they would be. I started with the living room, seperating the junk into three piles: keep, recycle, and trash. There was more in the trash pile by the time I was done. It filled three large trashbags; the recycling filled the recycling bin in the laundry room about three quarters of the way. The keep stuff I put to the side for Gamzee to sort through. Next I set about looking for the vacuum. I finally found it in the garage of all places. That took about fifteen minutes to clean the carpet, under and around the couch, the couch itself, and the hallway. I didn't go into Gamzee's room, and mine did not need cleaned. Altogether cleaning the living room took about an hour.

The kitchen, on the other hand, took close to two hours. I took out the trash, which included the dozens of pizza boxes and faygo bottles and any out of date food in the fridge and cupbaords. The table and chairs wiped down with a clean washrag I found, though several stains were permanent. Luckily as I swept up the floor I did not find any bug corpses or mouse crap. That was probably the only real good thing about the house at the moment. If Gamzee had a rodent or insect problem, I'm sure Kankri would have told me about it. Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away, and the stovetop was cleaned to a shiny black, I swept and mopped the floor, making sure to get in every nook and cranny.

I finally plopped down on the cleaned couch after I was done wiping the windows in the living room and kitchen. There was a thick layer of dust on them. When they were cleaned of all the dust, I opened the curtains to let in some natural August light. I breathed in the now cleanish air. This was nice. There were no overbearing parents, hurtful words, or constant complaining. It was nice and quiet. I actually felt like I was home.


End file.
